After the Wedding
by VGWrighte
Summary: 3 part story set after the wedding during the Series 3 Christmas special. They only had good things to look forward to. Companion to "Before the Wedding." Part One: Timothy. Part Two: Patrick. Part Three: Shelagh. Bonus Part Four: The Nurses!
1. Timothy

Timothy After the Wedding

Based upon Call The Midwife, developed by Heidi Thomas

Part 1 of 3

\- - Poplar, Early Spring 1959 - -

Timothy and his friends from Cubs had built a tent out of blankets on the living room floor of Aaron's house. Aaron's parents had offered to let Timothy stay at their house during Mum and Dad's holiday. James and Dick had been invited for the first night, the night of the wedding day.

They had been loud and rowdy for a few hours after supper, but started to quiet down after Aaron's Dad raised his voice. Aaron's Mum had played the "Good Cop" and made them all some hot chocolate after they had settled.

Tim was lying on his back, wedged next to the sofa under an old quilt, thinking about the wedding and the following reception.

 _Tim had sat at the table with the nuns for the meal, but was now sitting by the record player, changing records. There were several boxes of records, all belonging to different people, and he had to make sure the records went back into the boxes they came from, and everyone got their own records back._

 _Nurse Franklin helped him, especially by picking out songs. She knew which songs were good to dance to._

 _He enjoyed watching everyone dance. Of course, Mum and Dad danced together. Mr. Jesmond was dancing mostly with Nurse Lee, but danced with the other nurses as well. Constable and Mrs. Noakes danced, which was an odd sight. Nurse Miller had danced with Baby Freddie a few times, which consisted of her moving around and him giggling. What surprised him most was that the nuns danced as well. All the men, including Dad, took turns spinning them around, even though they didn't dance too much. It turned out Mr. Buckle was a very good dancer._

 _Tim had always liked dancing. Mummy would dance with him often. He had memories of her holding him on her hip, and spinning around the living room. He had memories of his arms wrapped around her hips, cheek resting against her stomach, swaying in the kitchen._

 _Mummy and Dad had danced often. And when they did, they would dance for what seemed like hours. They always looked happy when they were dancing, even if Dad came home late and tired._

 _But then Mummy got sick, and they danced less and less. One day the dancing stopped, and house got quieter. Mummy died not long after that, having wasted away._

 _Timothy smiled as he watched Mum and Dad dance. He looked down at his legs, hopefully she would want to dance with him once his legs were better._

 _Nurse Franklin came over and started search through the record boxes. She seemed to find the one she wanted, and then winked at him. She changed the record once the song was over and it was a slow song. Tim looked back to the dance floor and saw Mum and Dad walking towards him, hand in hand._

 _Mum smiled. She looked so pretty in that big white dress. She released Dad's hand and reached out to him. "Will you dance with me, Timothy?"_

They had only danced for one song, and it wasn't much of a dance - he thought. But Mum seemed to enjoy it, and he certainly enjoyed it. He couldn't wait for Mum and Dad to come back from their holiday. They were going to Brighton for three days. Why someone would want to go to the seaside in the middle of winter was beyond him. Mum told him she wasn't terribly fond of swimming in the ocean to begin with, they were simply going to Brighton because it was a nice place and equipped for tourists on holiday.

He was so excited for them to all live in one house together, for her to be there every day when he got home, for her cooking, and for her not to have to leave in the evenings and for her to be there when he woke up in the morning.

Before Christmas, when she stayed on the sofa at Christmas time, he had gone down stairs in the early morning for a glass of water. At the bottom of the stairs, he had heard something. Humming. She was humming.

 _He peeked his head around the corner to see her sitting by the window, Dad's ancient bible in her lap, humming softly. Tim didn't think he had made any noise, but she stopped humming and turned her head towards him. "Timothy, what are you doing up at this hour?"_

 _He went to her. "I was thirsty."_

 _She stood and they went to the kitchen. "What are you doing?" he asked as she reached a glass and filled it with water from the tap._

 _"I was praying," she said simply._

 _"Why were you humming?"_

 _She frowned briefly. "I used to sing psalms with the other nuns." A shy grin graced her face. "Singing by myself seems silly, but I miss the music. So, I just hum to myself."_

 _She seemed a little sad. "I can pray with you, if you want," he offered._

 _She smiled and gently squeezed his shoulder. "Thank you, Dear, but it's early, you should be in bed."_

 _He nodded, put his glass away and headed back to his bed._

Timothy was excited to wake every morning and find her in the house, just like a real family.

He was getting sleepy, so he said his nighttime prayers. He had gotten out of the habit after Mummy had died, but Mum always made them pray before meals, so he got back in the habit.

 _"Dear God," he prayed silently to himself. "I pray for Mummy in heaven. Please tell her I love her. Thank you for sending me and Dad Mum. I pray that they have a nice holiday. I pray that my legs get stronger so I can dance with Mum. Amen."_

Timothy smiled, thinking back on the wedding and the reception. He fell asleep with a smile on his face, and dreamt of dancing.

\- - END Part One - -


	2. Patrick

Patrick After the Wedding

Based upon Call The Midwife, developed by Heidi Thomas

Part 2 of 3

\- - Poplar, Early Spring 1959 - -

Shelagh had changed out of her gorgeous white wedding dress and into a simple gray dress. Patrick knew it was her original wedding dress, the one she would've wore if they got married at Christmas. While he would've preferred to get married at Christmas, and he admitted that the gray dress was nice, the memory of her walking down the aisle in that white wedding dress, looking like an angel, would be one that he would treasure for the rest of his life.

He was glad they had a big wedding. He and Timothy's mother had had a small wedding. The reverend, a chapel, and her parents. It was a small and quick wedding, because of the war.

There was no war now.

He hadn't dreamed of a big wedding, but he had dreamed of Shelagh as his wife, and now it was true.

They were quiet on the drive home. His right hand on the wheel, his left on the gear shift. Her hand gently rested on his.

They kept glancing at each other, almost embarrassed to look too long. It was foolish. After all, they were married. They had spent most of the day, staring blissfully into each other's eyes while dancing. Now, driving home, he could barely look at her.

She was so beautiful, so lovely, so wonderful.

He parked the car and quickly got out. He retrieved her small bag from the back seat and went to open her door. His nerves were getting worse, his hand slipped on the door handle, causing it to make a loud thump.

The keys rattled incessantly as his hand shook unlocking the front door.

He followed inside and set her bag on the floor in the foyer. They stared at each other for a moment.

Patrick couldn't bear to look at her. He looked anywhere, but her. "Would you like a cup of tea or coffee or Horlicks

or . . ."

She stopped him. "No, Patrick. But it seems you might need a wee dram."

"I think I have some Scotch. Glenlivet. Or maybe it's Glenfiddich." He hurried to the kitchen to pull some glasses down. When he turned away from the cupboard, she was standing directly behind him, startling him.

Shelagh took the glasses from his hands and set them down on the counter top. She took his hands in hers. "You're nervous."

He nodded. "I feel as if I'm taking something that doesn't belong to me."

A smile graced her lips. It was the small smile she smiled when she was embarrassed. "If God didn't strike us down in the church, I doubt He'll do so now."

He chuckled. "I suppose you're right."

She squeezed his hands. "Patrick, will you pray with me?"

Something about what she said and the way she said it made his anxiety vanish, and - for a moment - he lost himself in her eyes. He nodded, unable to speak. Just a few moments ago, he couldn't bear to look at her, now he couldn't bear to look away.

She bowed her head and held both his hands tightly. "Heavenly Father, we thank you for this wonderful day with friends and family. We thank you for the health of our son." She paused briefly, perhaps thinking of what to say next.

"Thank you for answering prayers and making dreams come true." Patrick wasn't sure if he was speaking to God or directly to her, but it didn't really matter. She was everything he worshiped now, and he would be eternally grateful to God for saving Shelagh for him until it was time for them to be together.

She looked up at him. Again, all thoughts left his mind, staring into her eyes. "Amen," she whispered.

Patrick squeezed her hands briefly, before leaning down to kiss her gently.

She sighed. "Well, Doctor Turner," she licked her lips and cast her eyes down. "Shall we . . . retire?"

He released one of her hands and tilted her head up, forcing her to meet his gaze again. "Yes, Mrs. Turner, I believe we should." He kissed her again

\- - END Part Two - -


	3. Shelagh

Shelagh After the Wedding

Based upon Call The Midwife, developed by Heidi Thomas

Part 3 of 3

\- - Poplar, Early Spring 1959 - -

Shelagh couldn't help but stare at her reflection. She looked like a different woman than she had been not so many months ago.

She had let her hair down. There was residual makeup on her face. And she wore a peach satin night gown with spaghetti string shoulder straps and a small ribbon tied in a neat bow beneath her breasts. The nurses had given it to her.

That's wasn't precisely correct. The nurses had gotten it for her. Nurse Noakes gave it to her. The nurses had helped her out of the white wedding dress and she had put on the gray dress. She returned to the waiting room to see Nurses Lee and Miller ushering Nurse Franklin out of the room.

 _Nurse Noakes had a small tissue paper wrapped item in her hands. "We bought this for you," she said in a matronly tone Shelagh was not accustomed to hearing from the 6 foot nurse. "Trixie wanted to give it to you herself, but we thought she might embarrass you." She handed the package to Shelagh._

 _Shelagh opened it, revealing the peach satin nightdress. She gasped._

 _"We were rather hoping that would be Doctor's response as well."_

 _Shelagh was able to tear her gaze from the gift for a second to see a kind smile on Nurse Noakes' face. Staring at the nightdress, her mind began to reel, thinking about the activities the nightdress was bought - no doubt - to induce._

 _"There's no need to be nervous," Chummy said in a soft voice. "It's impossible muddle, and to be part of someone . . ." she trailed off._

 _Shelagh looked up to see the most calm and collected expression she had ever seen on Chummy's face. "Suffice it to say, there is a reason the Church considers it a sacrament."_

Shelagh was incredibly grateful that that conversation had only including Chummy. It had been difficult enough facing the nurses and her Sisters all day. Before, virginity had simply been a fact of her life. She gave it no thought. Now, she felt incredibly exposed knowing that her friends and family knew that she was losing said virginity this evening. She tried to ignore it, but couldn't.

Except that she could, at times. There were certain moments when she was completely enthralled by Patrick that all other thoughts were simply out of her mind and all she could think of was being with him.

He was waiting for her. In the bedroom. In _their_ bedroom. So many dreams had come true today. It was time for another.

She entered the bedroom and quietly closed the door behind her. Patrick was standing at the window, looking out. He was standing in his bare feet, wearing his trousers and vest. His braces hung loosely at his sides. There was something incredibly intimate about seeing his feet and shoulders.

Upon hearing her enter the room, he turned, a grin alight his face.

Neither spoke as he went to her, taking both her hands in his. She stared at his chest, all too conscious of the way he was admiring her. He released one of her hands and lifted her chin with excruciating care. He kissed her.

She squeezed his hand and gripped his upper arm with her other hand. Her eyes drifted closed.

He released her lips. "You're trembling," he whispered.

She hadn't realized. She gripped both of his hands and stared at them, composing her thoughts. "I'm frightened," she admitted quietly.

He didn't respond, but she saw his entire body stiffen.

She met his gaze with a soft smile. "Frightened that it will be too much." Her tongue darted between her suddenly parched lips. "There are times when I simply hold your hands that my heart is so full of joy I fear it may burst. At times like those - like these - I don't know if I could manage more."

His eyes smoldered as he gazed down at her. Her heart thumped in her chest. "It will be too much until the moment that it is everything. Then nothing will ever be enough unless it's absolutely everything."

She swallowed hard. "That doesn't make it less frightening."

"Let me show you."

She let him, and he did.

Some time later, Shelagh was curled up to Patrick's side, hand resting on his bare chest. He had an arm wrapped around her, hand resting on the curve of her hip. He slowly smoked a cigarette with the other hand, and periodically offered it to her. She enjoyed the simple intimacy of sharing a cigarette after their lovemaking.

"Patrick," she said, looking up to his face. "I've never been so happy."

"I have," he responded.

She stiffened. That was not the response she was expecting.

He looked down at her softly. "When I first held Timothy and he wrapped his entire hand around my smallest finger."

She laughed and nuzzled her face into his chest.

Shelagh felt him shift, smooring his cigarette in the ashtray on the bedside table. He turned on his side and pulled her body to his. "Let me love you again," he asked quietly, pressing his lips to her neck.

Threading her fingers through his hair, she sighed. "Love me forever."

And he did.

\- - - END - - -


	4. The Nurses

The Nurses After the Wedding

Based upon Call The Midwife, developed by Heidi Thomas

Bonus Part 4!

\- - Poplar, The Following Tuesday - -

Cynthia couldn't help herself but keeping glancing up at Mrs. Turner. _Mrs. Turner_. No longer Sister Bernadette. Entirely the same, but almost completely different. This was the first Tuesday after she and Doctor Turner returned from their honeymoon. It was the first Antenatal clinic she had attended since she left the convent.

All the of the nurses were doing it: watching them together. They were trying not to. Mrs. Turner was somewhat shy to begin with, and certainly didn't enjoy being the center of attention. But it was so difficult not to. There wasn't even much to observe, but they all did.

It wasn't as if they were making a scene. They spoke professionally. She called him Doctor. And he called her Mrs. Turner, sometimes. Mostly he avoided calling her anything, because the words "Mrs. Turner" made them both smirk and completely lose focus. He would turn back to his duties, but glance back at her several times over the next few minutes and she would duck her head and hide a smile for several minutes.

But when they stood close to each other, they stood extremely close to each other. They didn't touch, but a few times Cynthia would've testified that she saw Doctor Turner _smelling_ his new wife.

Now, the day was almost over and Doctor Turner had left for his evening rounds. Mrs. Turner had stayed to file the rest of the paperwork. She always had been the best administrator out of all of them.

They were almost finished cleaning up, and Cynthia saw Trixie getting more and more animated. She hoped Trixie wasn't about to commence an interrogation of Mrs. Turner.

Everything was tidied up and they all congregated together before dispersing for their evening rounds.

"Thank you so much, Mrs. Turner," Jenny said, "for helping us with the registration."

"It certainly kept things moving along," Cynthia added helpfully.

Mrs. Turner grinned a shy grin. "It was my pleasure. Donating a few hours of my time on Tuesdays is the least I can do."

"Enough of this prattle," Trixie jumped in. Cynthia anticipated Trixie's next statement, but couldn't speak fast enough to stop it. "So, tell us: What's it being like married to Doctor Turner?"

"Trixie!" Cynthia admonished her friend. Trixie's tone made it abundantly clear which aspect of marriage she was referring to.

"Shelagh, you don't have to tell us anything you wish to," Jenny said before Mrs. Turner could school the shock and embarrassment off her face.

Mrs. Turner turned from them for a moment, retrieving her pocket book from the desk behind her. Both Cynthia and Jenny took the opportunity to glare reproachingly at Trixie, who wore a wicked grin.

"That is entirely untrue," Trixie said. "You simply must tell us everything."

Mrs. Turner turned back to them, having schooled her features. "I will tell you this: I have known Doctor Turner for nearly ten years. And after being married to him for ten days, the two words I would use to describe him have not changed in that time."

The look of excitement on Trixie's face faded slightly. This was clearly not the answer she was expecting.

"Kind and gentle."

Without another word, Mrs. Turner walked out of the hall, leaving the nurses in stunned silence.

\- - - END - - -


End file.
